


Sources of Inspiration

by Anonymous



Category: American (US) Actor RPF, American (US) Writer RPF, Saturday Night Live RPF, US Comedians RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Romantic Comedy, Shameless Smut, just a lot of jokes and sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 11:50:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20693057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: You're really trying to get this project that's been collecting dust for too long off the ground. Bill's struggling with writer's block, too. Time to let off some steam.





	Sources of Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OverOnTheBench](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverOnTheBench/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Goodnight - Stay](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16239089) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 

> Mostly lurk here but I've been waiting been waiting for someone to write a really hot, really funny Bill Hader fic forever. [nohohanks' story really nailed it](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16239089) (So to speak.) It inspired me, so here’s an anonymous gift to repay the favor. Please enjoy. :) (It's sort of a continuation of the same relationship, I hope that's OK!)

It had been eleven weeks since (y/n) and Bill finally decided to make this thing… a thing. She hadn’t seen him for about seven of them, as he was on the press tour. (The occasional sexts punctuated with “I love you” and “I HATE THIS” helped.)

Then he had his kids for a week. (Dad duties is A+, though she did still miss him.)

Then he showed up on her doorstep one evening looking like an entire fucking snack and there were about 36 hours of great sex interrupted a few times by a food delivery.

And then they were back to work: Bill in the _Barry_ writers room, and (y/n) brushing the dust off an old albatross.

“You, uh… you remember that spec script I was working on over the holidays and I never got past the third page?” she’d asked him that night. They’d been sitting on her sofa in their underwear eating Thai noodles while an old episode of _Unsolved Mysteries_ played on the TV.

“The ‘it’s not about my parents, but _it is_ about my parents script?” Bill asked.

“Yeah.” She chewed and swallowed a shrimp and cleared her throat. “I wrote pages four, five and six yesterday.” Bill’s eyes widened and he did a comedy “shaking off the surprise” move with his head. (y/n) laughed, “Is it really so shocking? That’s three measly pages.”

Bill put his container of food on the coffee table, wiped his mouth with a napkin and took her food away, too. He hovered over her until she fell back into the pillows, running one fingertip up her neck, cupping her face.

“It’s wonderful,” he said, his voice soft and low. They kissed, slow and gentle; “I’m really proud of you,” he whispered against her lips, and she sighed, running her bare foot up the back of his thigh. She hooked her big toe into the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“Dude, I’m still eating, I just wanted to tell you how much I…” and out of nowhere, Bill went off on a giggle fit.

“That was going _so well_, babe are you high?” She mussed his hair as he sat up, covering the top half of his face with his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he wiped his eyes and pointed at the TV. “The theme came on again and I just suddenly thought of that clip, remember that video PJ showed me where the guy took the old Carvel commercial and [put this music over it](https://twitter.com/TanookiKuribo/status/1004727282555084801)?”

(y/n) had to laugh too, then. “Yeah, Murder Cookie Puss.”

“MURDER COOKIE PUSS,” Bill blurted. “Ugh, so good. I’m sorry, come here, I love you.” He held out his arms and (y/n) curled up against his chest. “And you’re going to kill this fucking script, I know it.”

That was then. This was now, and she’d been banging away at her laptop for a few days. To be fair, she’d gotten up to page 30 so – the glass half full outlook would be that she now had ten times as much script as she started with. She’d also completely hit the wall three hours ago, put on her yoga clothes and went for a long walk while listening to 2 podcasts, came back, made a smoothie, showered, Dustbuster’ed the furniture (jesus), and was now back in front of the laptop with a cup of mint tea, staring at the blinking cursor.

The glass half empty outlook was “when Bill said I would ‘kill’ this script, this isn’t what he meant.”

A page and a half that she then scrapped out of frustration and two episodes of Mary Tyler Moore later, it was well past dark when he called.

“Alec is going home,” Bill said. He sounded shattered. “Almost everyone else is already gone. Tell me not to stare at this white board for another hour.”

“I thought you said you broke the season arc yesterday?”

He sighed. “We did, it’s just that today everyone had a different idea about how to get from A to B and C to D, and there’s this added layer of ‘we really wrote our way out of a corner last season and people loved it’ so now we have to do it again, _fuck_.”

“I’m blocked,” (y/n) said. “I rage-deleted a page and a half, and now I regret it.”

“At least you don’t have other people complaining that the one great idea you had all day is too ‘self-indulgent’.”

“BILL.” She raised her guard. “You’re not going to do ‘my problems are worse than your problems’.”

“No, no I’m not, please tell me stop being a dick and leave the lot.”

“You’re very tired. I’m tired, and we’ve both made some progress.” (y/n) closed her laptop and carried the phone into her bedroom. She flipped on the light and started rummaging in her closet until she found her “nice” robe, the navy blue kimono-style satin one with pink flowers. “Come over here, and we can de-stress.”

“De-_stress_?” Bill put extra emphasis on the second syllable.

“Yeah.” She laid the robe on the bed. Covering the phone with her hand as if there was someone there she didn’t want to hear, she whispered: “_With your penis in my vagina_.” Her heart warmed when he snort-laughed.

“I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“Hi,” she said in her best sultry voice when she opened the door, wearing the robe. Bill was in a plaid shirt, jeans, his Dodgers cap and white sneakers.

“Hell-ooooooooo,” he bellowed, his eyes raking her up and down. “I didn’t know we were doing sexy lingerie, though. I left my garter belt in the car.”

(y/n) playfully knocked the hat off his head, plunging one hand into his hair and slowly pulling on the waist tie of her robe. “We’re not,” she said, tugging him down and just gently lapping at his lower lip with the tip of her tongue. Not wanting to dive into a kiss until he had time to realize she was naked under the robe.

“Oh, good, _wowwwww_.” Bill hitched her leg up onto his thigh and their lips crashed together. The door slammed behind them. Pinned against the wall by his weight, (y/n) realized he was holding her up by her ass and she was now about four feet off the ground. She suddenly thought of that time he dropped her home ages ago, when they were still just friends. There was a blue striped sweater involved that made his eyes pop, and the way he smiled at her when she got out of the car, so that once she got inside, dropped her purse, walked into the bathroom, turned on the light and looked at her flushed face in the mirror, she said out loud to no one, “I think I want to climb Bill like a tree.”

It’s nice to be able to cross things off your bucket list.

He lifted her about four inches higher so he could kiss the curve of her breast. “I mean, I don’t want to brag or anything, but…” Bill cocked an eyebrow. “I do look pretty fucking good in fishnets.”

“Your legs are ten miles long,” (y/n) grinned. “I bet you do.”

“Bed?” he murmured between kisses.

“Like, five minutes ago.” He carried her into her bedroom still hitched around his waist, and she felt light-headed with joy.

“Oh god, oh fuck… Bill, I’m right there, I’m… _fuck_!” (y/n) reached behind herself, her hand landing on Bill’s thigh. She white-knuckled a pillow with her other hand, another pillow under her stomach as Bill fucked her from behind. He already knew she was close so he crouched down low, nudging both their pair of legs further apart. She was panting, completely spread-eagle with him on top of her and he was _so fucking deep. _

“So beautiful,” he whispered into her ear; the motion of their bodies brushed his groin against her lower back and sent a shiver through her. Then he pulled the ace card, sliding one hand underneath her to squeeze a breast and scoring the nape of her neck with his teeth. Bill figured that out after the first few days, that anything to do with her nape – a lick, a soft kiss, even just blowing on it – made her completely insane. _This asshole... _

“Fuuuuuuck!” (y/n) screamed, and she shuddered through a massive orgasm. Bill held her close, kissing her shoulder and fingering her as as he drove into her while she was still coming, and it didn’t take him long after that. They needed a shower, but were both too spent to move for about 20 minutes.

“Why does this feel so indulgent?” she asked him, lazily drawing little figure 8’s through his chest hair. “I invited you here and now I feel like I just rewarded myself for procrastinating today.”

Bill let out an amused exhale. “Why do you think I called you at my lowest point today? Look, when you’re chasing the story and you really want that sense of achievement, it’s easy to beat yourself up because you want to do something nice for yourself on a bad day.”

“Does that mean that before I suggested it, you were hoping that it would end up a booty call?” (y/n) pinched his nipple and he giggled.

“I mean… yeah.” Bill rubbed his eyes: “I almost called Mulaney, but I’ve been trying to get that guy to let me rail him like that for ten years and man, he’s just _not_ into it.” (y/n) chortled, shaking her head, and straddled him.

“But… have you considered letting _him_ top _you?”_ she asked him with a pensive inflection in her voice. Bill looked to one side, both corners of his mouth turned down as if he were seriously mulling it over.

“Think that would work?” he asked. They shared a laugh as she leaned down onto him, both of them getting extremely handsy and making out like teenagers, stopping to stare into each other’s eyes every so often.

“Can we take off somewhere together? When you finish the season, and I finish my script, can we please?”

Bill brushed the hair out of her face. “Definitely.”

“I mean even if it’s only a couple of days and we can’t go far, like Santa Barbara or something.”

“Santa BARBARA?” Bill chortled. “We can do better than that. Dream big, kid.”

That gave her an idea. “Hmmm, then Europe. Definitely somewhere on the Mediterranean, somewhere I’ve never been. Mallorca? Santorini?”

“I’m down for either of those.”

“OR… the Amalfi coast. I’ve never been anywhere in Italy yet, but I _really_ want to go there.”

Bill narrowed his eyes at her, clocking what she was trying to do. “Mm-hmmmm.”

(y/n) kissed her way up his chest, stopping in front of his face. Dropping another kiss on his chin. And one of the tip of his nose.

“Never been. _To Italy.” _

When Bill did voices it was almost always off the cuff, either in reference to something or because someone’s actual weird and silly voice made him laugh. A couple of times he’d done them in bed while they were screwing around, but they were almost always out of left field and generic – big dumb Texan, snooty old English gent, etc. As a rule, Bill hated being prompted to do voices when he wasn’t working, and _never_ something he was known for…

Except for one. And he’d only do it for her, because the fact that it made her laugh and weirdly turned her on a little made _him_ laugh.

“AMALFI!” She tittered in triumph as suddenly Vinny Vedecci spinned her onto her back and launched into his “deep” knowledge of the Amalfi coast. “Is beeeautifool, _como se dice?_, ehh like postcard. Or like-a de movie, _Talented Mr. Ripley!_ Con Matt Daaaay-mon, Gweeeen-eth eh-Paltrow and, ehhh…” He snapped his fingers. She needed to prompt him, he wasn’t going to do all the work.

“Jude Law,” she said in between giggles.

“_Jude Lawwwwwww._ Mamma mia, molto sexy man, Jude Law.”

“You know, he’s in a TV show now. You’d like it, it’s right up your alley. He plays the Pope.”

“_Siiiiiiii?_ Ohhh, si, sexy Pope, what you call this show?”

“_Sexy Pope Who Also Fucks_,” (y/n) replied. Bill started to break.

“Ah! But this-a means, this sexy Pope, he makes loooooove to many people? Or means _como_ the KEEDS say, when some-a-thing is _molto bene, se dice_” – he switched to a teenager’s voice – “That shit really FUCKS, dude!” And then he lost it, howling into the pillow. (y/n) rubbed his back.

“It really really fucks, my dude,” she said.

“Dammit, you had me at _Sexy Pope Who Also Fucks_.”

They showered, mostly in silence. Except for one bad prison joke Bill made when she dropped the soap (he was tired) and his complaining about her shower head being too short for him so she flicked shampoo water in his face.

He was already in bed as she pulled her nightshirt over her head, just smiling at her with a dreamy look on his face. Then all of the sudden his brows furrowed and he stared at the ceiling.

“What is it?” (y/n) asked?

“Moment of clarity. Can I borrow your laptop?”

“BILL.” She huffed. “You’re not writing right now, you’re going to sleep.”

“I’m not, I swear I’m really not. Five seconds, please!” She threw her hands up, but walked into the dining room and got her laptop off the table. She passed it to him, climbing into bed and propping herself up on a pillow to watch him.

“I swear, I’m….. literally….. just emailing myself… a note.” Bill tapped away for another few beats then finally closed the laptop and handed it back. “See?”

She placed the laptop on the nightstand and curled up next to him.

"What was the idea?" (y/n) asked. She could sense him smirking.

"I'll tell you after it airs. 'Hey, remember that time we were both broken shells of humans and you asked me to come over and go to town on that _puss-aaaay?" _His voice hitched high on the last word and she slapped his shoulder. "That was it. Cleared my head, man."

“I wish I could get inspiration out of the blue like that.” She slid her hand under Bill's t-shirt and caressed his stomach. He kissed the top of her head.

“You will.” He sounded so confident. She smiled to herself, and drifted off within moments.


End file.
